


World on Fire

by Shadow_Chaser



Series: In Blinded Skies [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 9/11 dedication, A lot of this is based on my own experience during September 11th 2001, Gen, I have very strong feelings about September 11th 2001, September 11 Attacks, St. Agnes Orphanage, This whole fic is one giant trigger warning, This whole fic was a trigger warning when I was writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Chaser/pseuds/Shadow_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>September 11th, 2001 through Skye's POV.  Trigger warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags - I will not be answering any comments about this story. It has been fourteen years to the date and writing this was very hard, especially since I was just a couple of years older than Skye when it happened. I'm actually surprised I managed something bordering on coherency with this because truth be told, I can't watch or read anything Sept. 11th related and actually do a news blackout each year on this day.

There was the barest of whimpers in the dimly lit basement of St. Agnes Orphanage, but even those whimpers were shushed by neighbors sitting next to each other. Murmurs of prayers and rote constantly droned in the background, the soft calm voices of the Sisters betrayed by the barest of tremors in their voices. Skye suspected that even they were scared, like she was, huddled with her knees pulled up to her chest, staring mutely at the television set that showed the surrealist image ever.

New York City was on fire.

It was around five-fifteen in the afternoon and she could feel the slight rumbling of hunger in her stomach, having not eaten a single thing since the morning. She couldn't even eat the sandwich that the Sisters had prepared and given to everyone. It sat, untouched, on its paper plate by her side. She was still too shocked, too stunned to even process what had happened since this morning; her mind a blur of whirling fear, shock, screams, and terror. She remembered being half-asleep in homeroom, the bell having just rung a little after eight, and the next thing she knew was a gigantic rumbling sound filling the air before what sounded like a distant thunderclap of something that actually made the windows and walls vibrate.

It was only minutes later the first screams resounded in the halls, as a couple of teachers and even older students that had come to school late ran in, screaming about how something had crashed into one of the buildings nearby. The next thing she knew was that her teacher, a middle-aged woman with speckled grey-white hair was shushing them and flipped on the TV that was in their room, immediately going to the local NBC station. There they saw footage from one of the news helicopter, clearly having been reporting on the local traffic, turn its camera hastily on what was one of the twin towers, a blackened trail of smoke spewing forth.

The news crew on the helicopter caught the second airplane slamming into the other tower of the World Trade Center.

And Skye suddenly knew that it had been real. That it was no movie. That the rumble she heard a second later seemingly echoing down the halls was that of the second plane slamming into the other tower. However, instead of panic, she felt oddly disconnected, that her mind while knowing it was real, could not utterly comprehend  _what had just happened_ . That it could not be...that the rumbling she heard was not real, was just a passing subway underneath, that it was-

She remembered watching her teacher suddenly hurry to the door, opening the door a crack, a few hasty nods and whispered words before shutting the door again. To her surprise, she saw her the teacher take one of the nearby desks and shove it against the door, blocking it. That was when she realized there was no lock on the door, that her teacher was bracing the desk against the door. Her eyes followed the teacher as she crossed the length of the room and calmly shut the TV off.

Her fellow classmates immediately protested before their teacher raised her hands, calling for quiet. She had then explained that the school was in lockdown until arrangements could be made for the students to be taken home. But right now, their safety was a top priority and that they did not want any of the students to wander the streets until the NYPD had deemed it safe. She said classes were canceled for the rest of the day. She then asked that those who had parents who worked at the World Trade Center and surrounding buildings to please come to her desk so that they could be told what to do.

One of the students asked if the TV could be turned back on and their teacher had hesitated before shaking her head, saying that there was nothing she could do. Skye instantly knew better – her teacher did not want to cause a panic. Or rather, the school administration did not want an unnecessary panic to occur and so were stifling news. The students groaned, but many of them turned to their friends and began to chat. Skye herself considered talking to a couple of classmates she knew, but at the same time she yearned to know what the hell was happening outside the walls of the brick and mortar school she was at.

She contented herself to watch as some of the students approached the teacher, apparently having parents or older siblings who worked at the World Trade Center, fascinated by the quiet, almost near silent conversation some of them were having before a few of them went to wait by the door. As soon as their teacher had finished talking to the last student, she had approached the door and pushed the desk away a little before opening it a crack. Skye noticed that one of the security guards for the school was waiting outside and gestured with a friendly, kind smile for the students to follow her.

Skye later learned that those students were the first ones released to their parents and taken home, to the hospital, or to shelters where the survivors of the attacks were starting to trickle in. She also later learned that a lot of the students' parents and siblings were also ones who had not made it, who had died.

The door closed once more and Skye had found herself still in the mostly silent room, still wishing that she could see what was happening. Her ears perked up at the soothing calming sound of Tom Brokaw muffled only by the brick wall that separated the classroom next door. One of the teachers had defied the rule for a news blackout. She could see some of her other classmates stare at the wall behind them, also hearing what she heard before they turned their heads to their teacher who was resolutely staring at her computer monitor, seemingly ignoring them.

Skye tentatively raised her hand. “Mrs. Davis?”

“Yes?” her teacher sounded distracted, but Skye supposed she was more than likely clicking through emails or maybe browsing news websites. She knew the school had restricted access and safe mode for many of the fledgling websites out there.

“Mrs. Hennessey is letting her students watch, can we watch-”

“No,” was the quick flat reply.

“But-”

“No,” she repeated herself.

“But Mrs. Davis, when will we know when it's a good time to leave?” she asked and received a narrow-eyed look for her question.

“Mr. Chalmers will make an announcement over the PA for any sort of dismissal,” was her teacher's reply and Skye knew that she would not change her mind. She leaned back against her chair for a few minutes before raising her hand again.

“Mrs. Davis?” she asked.

“Yes, Skye?”

“Can I go to the bathroom?” she asked and saw her teacher stare at her for a second before reluctantly nodding.

“I'll be back, thanks,” she said before hurrying towards the desk and edged it aside and ran out, grateful to actually get to the bathroom. She did her business quickly and on her way back, made her steps a lot more careful and quieter as she crept past the door that led back to Mrs. Davis' homeroom. Instead, she peered in on the classroom that belonged to Mrs. Hennessey and was mildly surprised at the fact that the door was opened fully instead of blocked and the sounds of Tom Brokaw's soothing voice was broadcasting what was happening.

She peered in and saw that Mrs. Hennessey's homeroom was actually full of seniors. It made sense, she suppose. Keep the younger children from being frightened, but the older ones probably wanted to know. She also knew that Mrs. Hennessey had a journalism background and probably did not like to censor news, even though she probably understood the necessity of not causing a panic. But still, leaving her door wide open...that was incredibly bold.

She suddenly flattened herself against the wall and tried to look like she had not been standing there, watching the news as Mr. Arthurs and Mr. Connely abruptly walked out of their own nearby classrooms and into Mrs. Hennessey's. However she did catch the sharp look Mr. Arthurs shot at her before she hurried back to Mrs. Davis' room. She noted that her teacher didn't seem to have noticed her long absence as she sat back down.

The brief footage, grainy and washed out from what looked like trouble with the broadcast signal, showed both towers with ugly looking black smoke trailing out of them, jagged wounds that she knew would be seared into her mind forever. Even Brokaw looked pale and shocked, but he kept his steady report unwilling to show his fear, horror, and terror at what was more than likely being broadcast through the whole of the United States. It was only in that moment that Skye realized that someone had done this...someone had attacked them, attacked New York City and did this to-

Skye snapped out of her thoughts as Mrs. Davis abruptly stood up and cleared her throat. The room fell silent, the only sound was the muffled drone of the television in Mrs. Hennessey's classroom next door. “You are all released to go home. We're calling and emailing your parents that you will all be taken to an evacuation center outside of the city and to pick you up there. The Department of Transportation has closed all inbound tunnels and parts of the city are being evacuated. Please go to the gym where you will be boarding by grade and class.”

There was a brief moment of silence before everyone got up and the students closest to the door, moved the desk out of the way and left. Skye got up, shouldering her backpack and followed her classmates out, noting the odd quiet muted way everyone was walking towards the gym. As far as she knew she needed to walk back to the Orphanage, which was mid-town. Mrs. Davis' words implied that they were going to be bused out of the city and picked up then...which she knew the Orphanage did not have any transportation of sorts – having not needed it in a city like New York.

She saw teachers handing out medical masks and realized that the situation was grimmer than she expected. She took one of the masks, stopping to tie it to her face, covering her nose and mouth. “Mr. Connely?” she asked as he stood in line with the other teachers handing out medical masks.

“Yes Skye?” she could see the worry in his eyes, but he managed to keep his composure.

“I uh, live at St. Agnes Orphanage-”

“Ah, with Matt Murdock and that other girl-”

“Katie,” she supplied and he nodded.

“Yeah, if you go to the gym, I think I saw one of the Sisters waiting for you,” he smiled kindly and she smiled back.

“Thank you,” she said and saw him smile a little before turning back to hand out more masks to the incoming wave of students headed to the gym. She would later learn that when he had finished with his task, he headed out of the school and straight to Ground Zero to help with the evacuation. She also learned later that he did not survive the collapse of the second tower, having been too close to the falling debris in his effort to help others.

Skye followed the others to the gym and as soon as she entered, she began to stand on her tip-toes, looking for any sign of a Sister's habit. A few seconds of looking around and she finally spotted the familiar black and white ensemble and both Katie and Matt who were waiting near her. She stuck her hand up and waved, catching Sister Mary's eyes who waved back and pushed her way across the crowd. She emerged from the stream of students a few seconds later and saw that all of them had their medical masks on.

“I want all three of you to hold hands tightly. There will be a lot of people on the sidewalks and I do not want any of you to get lost, okay?” the Sister said and to Skye's chagrin and dismay, she saw Katie immediately latch herself to the cane-less side of Matt, intending on guiding him. She normally did that, but she supposed after Katie's 'talk' with her a few months earlier, she was definitely enforcing her request for Skye to stay away from Matt.

She noticed Matt's frown and the fact that he looked extremely pale and nauseous – as if the sounds of so many people in the gym pained him. A part of her was worried for him, but Skye pushed it aside as she took up Sister Mary's left hand, Katie taking her right and the four of them started out of the gym.

“This will be a long walk and if you need to stop and rest, let me know, okay? I have a few water bottles, but we can't stop for too long, okay?” Sister Mary cautioned them as they exited the school.

Skye gasped in shock at the world on fire.

* * *

The walk had been long, arduous, and it had only deepened Skye's worry for Matt as he had abandoned the use of his cane to clutch his head, covering one of his ears, pain visibly rippling through him as they made their slow journey back to St. Agnes. Halfway through their journey, Sister Mary had told Katie to switch places with Matt and the Sister had all, but shielded Matt with her body in an effort to stem whatever pain he had to have been feeling. Katie had been confused and the two of them had followed behind Sister Mary and Matt. She wanted to tell Katie that Matt's hearing was sensitive, but she still felt hurt and angry towards her former friend.

It also did not help that in the beginning of their journey, the first tower had fallen and it had sent a surge of panicking people rushing in their direction. They had barely gotten out of the way before the tide somewhat subsided and they resumed their journey. The rest of it had been much of a blur, Skye only remembering bits and pieces, the feeling of something that seemingly burned in her lungs, and made her cough, but then cool air the next as they finally arrived at St. Agnes where the other children of the Orphanage had already been evacuated to the basement.

Sister Mary and sent her and Katie down to the basement with the others while she took Matt elsewhere. Skye remembered seeing Matt come down the stairs after what seemed like a while looking a little less pale than their walk from downtown to mid-town.

And so it was around five-fifteen in the afternoon and Skye kept staring at the news footage on the television screen that had been set up in the basement. Most of the others had deigned to ignore it, either exhausted with what they were seeing or had cried themselves to sleep. She kept watching as the news reported the imminent collapse of Trade 7, having been severely damaged by the debris from the collapse of the twin towers. The topic bar reported that Trade 7 had been evacuated and all personnel in surrounding areas had been accounted for, now they were just waiting for the building to fold in on itself. But Skye could not help but think of those who had survived the initial collapse about to be permanently trapped or killed underneath the debris. It horrified her and made her wonder why would someone do this. What gain was there to be had?

She was so engrossed in the TV that she started in surprise at someone suddenly sitting down in back of her. “It's me,” Matt said quietly at the same time she smelled fresh scent she had always associated with him.

“What about-” she quieted as she realized what she was about to say about Katie and her promise to her. “...nothing...”

“Skye?” he asked and for a second she thought he was going to reach out and prepared herself to move away, to show that she was keeping her promise to Katie, but to her surprise, he did no such thing. Instead, she suddenly felt his slightly heavy weight lean against her back, the back of his head knocking against the back of her own. She realized that he was sitting facing away from her. A quick glance out of the corner of her eyes told him that he was pretty much sitting like her, knees pulled up to his chest, his cane by his feet as he stared out with sightless eyes towards the basement itself.

“You feeling better?” she asked, testing out her own weight against his back and felt him shift in response. She leaned forward just a little bit, allowing a happy medium to exist in between them.

“...I heard them...” he whispered and she could hear the sheer exhaustion in his voice. She nudged his shoulder blade with her own in a small gesture of comfort. She had long known his hearing was always super sensitive, but she had thought that his time with Stick enabled him to control it. She supposed that days like these, there was probably no way to control any of that.

“Katie-”

“Doesn't know,” Matt interrupted her and Skye blinked, a little surprised at his confession.

She opened her mouth to say something about how boyfriends should tell girlfriends everything, but then shut it as a small worm of vindictive triumph surged through her. She  _knew_ something about Matt that even he never told Katie. And though a part of her knew she should not gloat on a day like this, she could not help but silently gloat. Katie had certainly told her to stay away from Matt, but she also knew that unlike what Katie probably wanted, Matt would not tell her everything...which meant she would never know Matt like Skye knew him.

“I...don't have Blankie,” she said after she realized that they had been sitting in near silence for a few minutes.

“I know...” he said, “can I...just stay? I...like hearing your heartbeat. It's...calm...couldn't think with the others, can't concentrate...well, yours is calm...”

Skye smiled a little bit and nodded, knowing that her friend could feel her movement with their backs to each other. “Sure.”

They sat in further silence and five minutes later, Skye watched - the terror and horror inside of her never changing how steady her heart was – as Trade 7 finally collapsed. Her world was on fire, but she knew that someday like what had happened between her, Matt, and Katie, it would recover.

 

~END~

 


End file.
